


What if You Told My Lies?

by luckie_dee



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2032803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckie_dee/pseuds/luckie_dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if that blind item were real? (Um, stick around for a while though. Everything might not be exactly as it first seems. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What if You Told My Lies?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [controlofwhatido](https://archiveofourown.org/users/controlofwhatido/gifts).



> **Warnings:** Intercrural sex, rimming, many (many) f-bombs, PWP, RPF.
> 
> **Author's Note:** HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING [LINDSEY](http://controlofwhatido.tumblr.com/)!! I'm sorry this is so late, and thank you for putting up with me and helping me through so much this year. My life wouldn't be the same without you and I'm so lucky you're in it. <3 (I wasn't sure where to go after writing you such a [specific kink](http://archiveofourown.org/works/855119) last year, so I thought, hey, how about one of your favorite pairings with one of your all-time favorite kinks, neither of which I've written before? I hope you enjoy!) THANK YOU to [Mandy](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/) for the quick read-through. Title from “What If” by Five For Fighting (which I've never actually heard oops).

Chris doesn’t answer the door until Darren rings the bell twice, then resorts to knocking when there’s no response, because he knows for a _fact_ that Chris is home. When he does finally appear, Chris doesn’t look particularly surprised to find Darren on his doorstep, even as he says, “Oh. What are you doing here?” 

Darren turns from where he’d started pacing and faces Chris fully. “Hello to you too, Chris. It’s nice to see you, and yes, this is lovely weather we’re having.” It isn't. It's too hot, and Darren's not sure if he’s damp because he’s sweating or if it’s just residual moisture from the shower he took before driving over. Either way, the look on Chris’s face clocks in somewhere far below amused, so Darren rushes on. “I’m here to try and find out what’s going on with you lately. Is something wrong? Did I piss you off?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Chris replies, not sounding all that bothered. His voice is cool, almost disinterested, and Darren fucking _hates_ that. It drives him right up the motherfucking wall.

And, really, it tells Darren all he needs to know. With a nod at the defensive way Chris is standing to take up practically the whole door frame, Darren says, “Well, why don’t you let me in and I’ll tell you.” 

Chris hesitates for a few seconds, silently appraising Darren with his eyes, but he does eventually step to one side and let Darren cross the threshold. Darren hurries in, like the invitation might be revoked, and moves past Chris to get out of the foyer, at least. This isn’t shaping up to be a foyer conversation. He hears Chris shut the door and lock it firmly before he follows.

When he reaches the living room, Darren rounds on Chris and asks, “All right, what’s up?”

“You’re the one who said you would explain yourself when you got inside,” Chris points out. “So… start talking.” He ambles over to the couch and grabs a remote to kill the television, which had been playing some sort of nature documentary, Darren notes absently and with a complete lack of surprise.

“Okay, you’re being weird,” Darren blurts out. He sidles over to a chair and hovers near it, waiting, but Chris just keeps watching him evenly, so Darren doesn’t sit down either. “Like right now. You’re all… I don’t know, hostile.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow, _are-you-fucking-kidding-me_ written all over his face. “You think _this_ is me being hostile?”

That does give Darren pause. “Okay, no, you’re right,” he says after a moment. “If you were being hostile, I’d probably be dead already —” Chris mutters _damn right_ “— and I would have never seen it coming. But you’re not being very nice either.”

“How am I not being nice?” Chris is impassive. He seems bored, actually, and a little distracted, like Darren is interrupting the exciting last act of gazelles getting attacked by lions on PBS and Chris is missing how it ends (spoiler alert: the gazelles get eaten). “We’ve barely talked to each other in days.”

“Exactly!” Darren exclaims. “That’s _weird_ , man. Like today at lunch. I was trying to talk to you and you pretty much just — walked away from me. What _was_ that?”

Chris shrugs. “I was done getting food. I sat down to eat. I’m sorry you took it as a personal offense.”

Irritation starts to prickle up Darren’s spine, replacing the confusion (and, if he’s being honest, hurt) that had been building up there for the past few days. “Okay, fine. Fine. What about yesterday, then, with Lea?”

“I… don’t even know what you’re referring to,” Chris says, squinting as though he’s trying to recall a memory from years ago instead of something that took place within the past eighteen hours.

“Right,” Darren replies, because it’s perfectly obvious the way this is going to go now. “Sure. Let me refresh your memory then: after filming wrapped for the day, I saw you talking to Lea. I thought to myself, _hey, Lea and Chris are cool and I like talking with them, so I think I’ll go join in_ , but when I started to walk over, you gave me this fucking _look_ — it was cold as ice, man, don’t even try and deny it — grabbed Lea’s arm, and dragged her out of the room.”

“She needed to talk to me.”

Darren feels his eyebrows come down, because that is a flat-out _lie_. “Then why did she look at me like she was really fucking confused?”

“I don’t know,” Chris replies. “Were you doing something confusing?” His voice is still neutral, but his eyes are narrowed a little and there’s some color high on his cheeks. It’s good to see — it means that Chris isn’t _quite_ as unaffected as he’s acting, so maybe they can actually get to the point sooner rather than later and work some shit out.

With that thought in mind, Darren regards Chris thoughtfully. “This has been going on for a while, hasn’t it? You almost took my head off during filming on Monday.”

Chris gives an exaggerated eye roll. “Every take, every _single_ take, you kept moving your shoulder so it was blocking half my face. I was frustrated. _Everyone_ was frustrated. Weren’t you? Or did you really enjoy shooting that scene twelve thousand times?”

“Yeah, see, I _thought_ that’s all it was, but then you kept acting just… fucking strange. You still are.”

“No, I’m _not_ ,” Chris argues, tossing his hands up in a gesture of annoyance. 

“Come on, Chris. That’s bullshit. We might not be best friends, but we’ve always been _friendly_.”

“Have we?” Chris asks innocently, tilting his head to one side, and that’s it — Darren feels his irritation flare up into genuine anger.

He takes a step closer to Chris, his voice dipping a bit as he says, “It’s not just me, you know. Other people have noticed.”

“Noticed _what_? There’s nothing —”

“Chord noticed, and then he showed me an article online.” Darren watches Chris closely to see if there’s any response. He thinks that Chris might look a little uncomfortable, but maybe he kind of has this whole time. “At first I thought it was just bullshit but —”

Chris interrupts him. “That’s a good instinct. You should trust it. Almost everything online is total bullshit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Darren says, moving a little closer. “I figured it was just some lame bullshit _blind item_ ” — Chris’s eyebrows go up — “all about how an actor and an actress on a TV show want to get one of the other cast members fired.”

For maybe just a second, Chris’s expression falters, but then it sinks back into something neutral. “And you honestly think that’s who — me? And Lea?”

Darren shrugs. “I might not have a few weeks ago. But you’ve been all fucking strange and distant, dragging Lea off for secret powwows — what am I supposed to think?”

Chris scoffs and breaks eye contact, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “This is ridiculous. This is literally the most ridiculous conversation we’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.”

“That’s exactly my point, though,” Darren needles him. “We used to have, like, three-hour debates about whether the Whomping Willow was good or evil —” 

“It’s just a _tree_ ,” Chris interrupts. “It isn't sentient.”

Darren groans. “It’s a magical fucking universe, Chris, for _fuck’s_ sake. The fact that you’re willing to accept unicorns and dragons and trolls and shit, but when it comes to —” He cuts himself off and refocuses. “But that’s not the _point_ , because now you won’t even _talk_ to me. Or look me in the eye.” 

Chris swings back to face him, glaring straight into Darren’s eyes, the _oh yeah?_ not even needing to be said. “So, we don’t talk for a few days and you somehow think this means I’m trying to get you fired. Do you seriously think that I’m that unprofessional?”

“I think something must have happened for you to be acting this way. I think that I don’t know what to think, and I think you should just tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“You are _so_ —” Chris says, but he doesn’t finish, just pinches his lips shut and shakes his head.

“So what?” Darren challenges him. “Correct?”

“Not what I was going for,” Chris mutters, and then he’s moving, crossing the small space between them in quick strides, grabbing Darren by the shoulder and neck — and crushing Darren’s mouth with his own. 

As far as kisses go, it’s pretty brutal, and Darren feels his eyebrows shoot up even as his eyes clamp shut. He should probably push Chris off — they’re supposed to be _fighting_ , for fuck’s sake — but this, _this_ touches the place inside of him that’s been keyed up and just _off_ , smooths it over, lights it on fire. His arms come up right away to latch onto Chris, to slide his hands all over Chris’s back and up to cup his skull, and he tries to pull away enough to be a more active participant in the whole making out thing, but Chris is walking him backwards, shoving him up against the wall with a _thump_ and a rattle.

Chris opens his mouth over Darren’s, and that’s more than fine with Darren, so he opens his right back. “You,” Chris breathes harshly into it, “are so exasperating.”

Their tongues slick hotly together, and then Darren grumbles, “So exasperating that you want to get me kicked off the show?” between the urgent presses of their lips.

That makes Chris lean away, and he looks over Darren’s face. Darren nods, just barely.

Chris mirrors it, and then shoves Darren into the wall again, fusing their mouths together for a moment before kissing (and biting, hey, wow) Darren’s jaw and then whispering into his ear, warm and wet, “Maybe you can give me a reason why you should stay.” Darren’s dick jumps to attention, like _oh, pick me! pick me!_ , and then Chris is grinding into it, plenty hard himself. 

It feels fucking awesome, but Darren tries to hold his hips still. “Christopher Paul Colfer, are you suggesting some sort of quid pro quo relationship here?”

“No,” Chris mutters, adjusting the angle of their bodies a little, making himself huff out a small grunt. Darren can’t help but rock back, but he bites his lips shut and manages to stay quiet. “I hate you, remember?”

“Sure, sure. Is that a casting couch I spy over your shoulder, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Shut up.” Chris works one hand up between the back of Darren’s head and the wall, then uses it to guide Darren’s mouth down to his neck, where Darren latches on obligingly. “That would be — _ungh_ — even more unprofessional.”

Darren lets his teeth scrape lightly over Chris’s skin — not hard enough to leave marks, not when they’re filming — and leans up to nip his earlobe. “So, what are we being here, Chris? Professional or unprofessional?” 

“Un,” Chris says, and then Darren’s being spun around, catching himself against the wall hard with his palms. Chris is right up behind him, pressed all along his back, his hard cock obvious at the top of Darren’s ass. He kisses sharply down the back of Darren’s neck to the loose collar of his t-shirt, while in the front he’s pulling the fabric up, sliding both hands underneath, hauling Darren tight back against him. 

Darren’s not sure if he should resist or cooperate, but cooperating seems like a hell of a lot more fun, so he just braces himself against the wall and juts his ass our further. “Chris, _fuck_ ,” he mutters. He’s distracted, but tries to get back on track. “I’m kind of getting some mixed messages here.”

“Are you?” Chris asks, mouthing the question directly into Darren’s skin. “Well, what about this?” His hands drop from Darren’s stomach and chest to the button at the front of his shorts, undoing it and then parting the zipper, dipping inside, and — Chris pauses. “You’re not wearing underwear? Seriously?”

“I often don’t,” Darren grits out. He glances down in frustration at Chris’s fingers disappearing into his waistband, _right there_ around the already-shiny head of his erection but not _doing anything_. “Is that a problem?”

“No. I guess not.” Chris maneuvers Darren’s cock out and gives him a few warm-up strokes — like Darren’s not already sufficiently warm — before he starts rutting shallowly, then with more vigor against Darren’s ass, each movement shoving Darren forward through the circle of Chris's fist. 

Darren drops his head forward and moans appreciatively. “Yeah, Chris, feels good.”

“Yeah?” Chris grunts.

“Yeah,” Darren reiterates. But he frowns. “Except if this is how we’re gonna do it, I’m probably going to come on your wall, and you’re _probably_ going to be pissed off about that, so we should probably move.”

Chris releases him entirely and steps back. “Okay, you know what? This is the worst attempt at roleplay that anyone has ever made. Can we just give it up and fuck normally?”

“No, no,” Darren says soothingly, turning from the wall and hiking his shorts back up, issuing a mental apology to his dick — his erection is waning a bit, but he’s still stubbornly, mostly hard — as he tucks it back inside with a wince. “We just got off track. We need to regroup. Just think of it as fucking up a take.”

“You seriously want to keep trying this.”

“I seriously do. I still think it’ll be fun. Let’s go to your bedroom, though.”

Chris looks at him dubiously. “Why on earth would we be having this conversation in my bedroom?” he asks flatly. 

“Because that’s where your bed is,” Darren shoots back, even though the question sounded pretty rhetorical. “Duh.” He grabs Chris’s wrist and tows him out of the room, and for all his protesting, Chris follows without much resistance. When they arrive, Chris shuts the door, and Darren’s kind of relieved — he likes Brian, but sex is a lot less creepy when Brian isn’t around. 

“So what now?” 

“Now that we’re alone and won’t be interrupted,” Darren says, giving Chris a pointed look and a lame explanation for relocating, “I think you should tell me why you’re trying to get me fired.”

Chris takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, Darren can see him slide back into character. It’s always so fucking cool to watch him do that. “I think you’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” Darren spits. Chris looks sort of surprised at how bitter it comes out, but fuck it, Darren’s been basically imagining this scenario ever since he found out about that stupid article. And in his imagination, they get kind of pissed at each other. “It’s my fucking _career_.” 

“I don’t want to ruin your career,” Chris says, his voice calm and placating, which only makes Darren bristle more. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then please, Chris, enlighten me. What _is_ this about?”

Chris pauses. “Some of us just think that things like songs and scenes and storylines should be more… equitably distributed.” 

“I completely agree with you,” Darren replies evenly. “But that’s not all, is it?” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” Chris says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“How about the truth?” Darren challenges him. “That you and Lea left yesterday to meet with Ryan. That you want me gone.”

“For the thousandth time…” Chris grumbles, flinging his arms out again as he starts pacing the short distance between the end of the bed and the wall. “You are overreacting and just plain making shit up, and I cannot _believe_ you’re actually taking some blind item on the internet seriously.” He rounds on Darren again, his eyes blazing — rather impressively, Darren thinks. Well, he didn’t win a Golden Globe for nothing. And it’s _perfect_. “I do _not_ want to get you fired.” 

Darren walks toward him, locking their gazes. “Then what _do_ you want?”

“For you to stop being so paranoid.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really, that’s what I want.”

“And that’s all?”

They stare at each other at close range, and yeah, this is exactly the fucking way it’s supposed to go. There’s a beat, a pause, everything suspended in the air — and then they’re grasping at each other, yanking each other close as they collapse together, mouths crashing, hands grappling, and it’s almost like the first time Darren had impulsively kissed Chris, the way it had felt like someone punching him in the stomach and grabbing him by the dick at the same time. Speaking of dicks, Chris’s is hard and unmistakable against Darren’s body, so _something_ about the whole scenario is working for him too.

Chris starts pushing him back again, and Darren resists it a little at first just to be obstinate, but then he realizes that’s where the bed is so he goes with it. They hit the mattress hard, scrabbling together toward the pile of pillows in front of the headboard, and Darren ends up half-naked with Chris half on top of him. “So,” he pants, between hard presses of Chris’s mouth and sweeps of tongue, “there — _is_ something — else you want.” He rolls them onto their sides, throws one leg over Chris’s, and grinds his hips into Chris’s body.

“Maybe,” Chris grunts, rocking back against him. Darren’s not really sure whether Chris is even following the plot anymore. It’s okay though; Darren doesn’t really mind. Especially not when Chris is trying to keep his tongue in Darren’s mouth while he disentangles their legs to shove his own pants down. Darren tries to help, but mostly he just gropes Chris’s cock through his briefs — because sadly, Chris _is_ wearing underwear. “Stop,” Chris mutters, sounding pained as he swats Darren’s hands back. “Stop.” He reaches out and unfastens Darren’s fly again. “Just get naked.” 

They each go back to their own clothes, shimmying them off and away, and then they slam together again, skin on skin. Darren tries to maneuver them back into the same position, but Chris is moving him — manhandling him, more like — until Darren is flipped in the other direction, and Chris is working to slot his cock, hot and hard, just right between Darren’s thighs. “Oh,” Darren huffs out. “So _this_ is what you want.”

“This is what I want,” Chris confirms. “Can you reach the drawer?”

Darren stretches over, bumping his ass purposefully back into Chris’s abdomen as he does so, to retrieve the lube. “Yeah you do,” he says as he passes it back. “’Cause I’ve got _thighs like what, what, what_ …”

He can feel Chris pause. “Do you actually want to have sex right now or…?”

“Hell yes, and so do my thighs,” Darren says cheerfully. He parts them as Chris withdraws his dick, messily slicking it and the insides of Darren’s legs before sliding smoothly back into place. Darren squeezes his leg muscles as tight as he can.

Chris grunts and then breathes harshly into his ear, “You sound way too happy for someone who’s having — _uh_ — hate sex.” He starts thrusting evenly into the vee of Darren’s crotch, rubbing up against Darren’s balls with every pass.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Darren moans, writhing back into Chris’s body and clutching at the hand Chris winds around his body to press into his chest. “Keep doing that. And I’m happy no matter what kind of sex I’m having.” 

“Even if —” Chris starts to move faster, harder “— it’s with someone... who might be, _hah_ , trying to sabotage your career?” 

Darren drops Chris’s hand to reach for his own cock, but Chris bats it away, pumping Darren a few times himself before setting his fingers in a firm ring around the base. “Fuck sabotaging my career, man, you’re sabotaging — a fucking _stellar_ orgasm, shit.” 

Chris just tightens his grip a little more and fucks in _hard_. It’s fucking excruciating being held off when Darren can feel Chris’s chest up against his back and Chris’s leg muscles flexing against his skin, and that’s on top of the slick drag of Chris’s cock against his perineum and his sac, as if that isn’t fucking awesome enough on its own. _Then_ Chris leans forward and sets his teeth lightly into the back of Darren’s neck, down near where it meets his shoulder, letting them scrape, probably not as hard as he’d like to, Darren’s guessing. “Not. Fucking. Fair,” he grinds out, squirming in Chris’s grasp. 

“Fair?” Chris says, low and dangerous into his ear, and Darren shivers. “ _Fair_ like working on your character for _years_ ” — he pounds his cock hard and jerky between Darren’s thighs — “and then being pushed aside for someone new?”

With the way that Chris is plastered along his back, there’s not much Darren can do. He slams his free hand down on the mattress, balling the top of the comforter into his fist. He leans onto it heavily; Chris is strong and his thrusts are almost toppling Darren over now. “Chris, I can’t — _help_ that.” 

“I know,” Chris grunts. “But maybe you can help me — _shit_ — work out how frustrating it is.” 

Darren’s pretty sure that Chris would never say anything that cheesy if he weren’t, like, half a minute from coming, so thank god he is. “ _Yeah_ , please,” Darren breathes. “Let me do that for you Chris, fuck. If that’ll make it okay. Fuck me.”

Chris whines, rams himself hard between Darren’s thighs a few more times and comes, slamming his hips against Darren when he does, angling up so that he’s splashing hot over Darren’s cock and balls. He’s groaning thickly against the back of Darren’s neck, until he stops and rasps, “Yeah, this’ll make it okay,” and starts stripping his fist over Darren’s dick, swift and determined. 

“ _Yes, fuck_ ,” Darren exclaims, nearly shouts, and he lets himself fuck into Chris’s fist and come fast, spilling out onto the mattress while Chris is still shuddering against his back.

When he’s done and Chris is done and there are no more sneaky little aftershock tremors and everyone’s _done_ , Darren lets out a long breath and goes boneless against the mattress. “You are way too good at that,” he mutters.

“Thigh fucking?” Chris mumbles into his shoulder. He’s draped, sweaty and off center, across Darren’s body. “I’ll add it to my resume.”

“No, I meant pretending to hate me,” Darren clarifies. 

“Who says I was pretending?”

Just for that, Darren elbows Chris off and onto the other side of the bed, where he flops down on his back, laughing to himself. Darren flips his face on his pillowed arms so that he’s looking in the other direction, at Chris instead of at the empty room and the far wall. “That was mean, Christopher,” Darren informs him. “You’re being mean.”

“Don’t _Christopher_ me.” Chris lolls his head to the side to shoot Darren a challenging look. “And I think I was being pretty nice to you as recently as a few minutes ago.”

Darren considers it. “I can’t argue with that,” he finally says, and Chris turns his gaze back to the ceiling, looking satisfied. “You really could add it to your resume, you know: _New York Times bestselling author, acclaimed actor, and grade-A thigh fucker extraordinaire, Chris Colfer_.”

“You forgot Golden Globe winner.”

“ _Acclaimed_ actor, I said.” 

Chris snorts. “Yeah, either way that’ll be a great ‘about the author’ on my next children’s book.”

“Don’t hide your light under a basket, man,” Darren says, and when Chris only answers with a hum, he thinks over the issue again. “You know what though? You could have fucked my ass instead. You should have. I stopped at home to shower for a reason, you know.”

“Darren,” Chris says patiently, like he’s explaining something for the fifth time, “if we really didn’t like each other and we were just hooking up, the chance that I’d jump straight to fucking you is slim to none. You’d have a better chance getting Brian to stick to a diet.”

With a roll of his eyes, Darren argues, “It’s _roleplay_. It doesn’t matter what you’d really do. You do what’s hottest.”

“And what’s hottest is fucking your ass?”

Darren shrugs as best he can with the way he’s currently lying. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, we don’t do that enough lately.”

“We just did that the other day. Last Sunday? Whenever.”

“Like I said.” Darren punctuates this by wiggling his eyebrows. And his ass.

Chris just watches him, unimpressed. “You’re basically squirming around in your own filth right now.”

“And yours,” Darren points out.

“Because _that_ makes it better.” 

“It does actually,” Darren argues. “It means I had sex instead of just jerking off.” 

There’s a small moment of silence, while Darren waits and Chris lifts his eyes to blink at the ceiling. Finally, he says, “Your logic is terrifying.” 

“My logic is perfectly sound, but this _is_ kind of gross.” Darren scoots over as he talks, until he’s crowding into Chris’s space, bumping up all alongside him. Chris just sighs and lets him. “I can go again,” Darren offers hopefully. 

Chris rolls up onto his side and props his head on one hand, letting the other slip down to the dip of Darren’s waist where his skin is still tacky with sweat. He runs it back and forth absently. “That has to be the least surprising thing I’ve ever heard.”

Darren wriggles up the bed a little, arching his back to encourage Chris’s touch lower. “Like you can’t?”

“I didn’t say that,” Chris replies, teasing the tips of a few fingers down along the top of Darren’s ass crack. 

Only for a few seconds, though, and then he’s pressing his palm against Darren’s lower back again. “You don’t want to?” Darren asks, disappointed.

“I didn’t say that either.” Chris takes his hand off of Darren entirely, shifting it to the bed on the other side of Darren’s body as he boosts himself up to straddle Darren’s legs. He leans down, bracing his weight on both arms, and kisses the hollow between Darren’s shoulder blades. 

Darren lets out a happy _mmmm_ and stretches against the mattress. “Okay, I like where this is going.” 

Chris makes a noise against Darren’s skin that Darren can’t really read and then slides down a little, his skin slicking along Darren’s, and kisses a little lower. Then a little lower.

Darren’s hum goes sharp and he adds, “ _Really_ like.”

There’s a low chuckle at the base of his spine, then a wet kiss above the crack of his ass, and then a light smack against the side of it. “Oh, just wait. Hips up.”

Darren flails blindly for one of the pillows, which are scattered on the bed and, probably, the floor. His fingers close around one, but Chris says immediately, “Not that one. That one’s my favorite. I just ordered it. The cover is made out of bamboo.” 

He fumbles over Darren’s body to reach the other side of the bed, and the motion makes Chris’s dick — half-hard — brush against the back of Darren’s thighs. “You should add your recovery time to your resume too,” Darren comments. He wraps his arms around Chris’s that-one’s-my-favorite pillow and presses his face into it while he lifts his hips and lets Chris stuff another pillow underneath them. 

“What was that, Mister I-Can-Go-Again?” Chris asks, sounding distracted by, Darren assumes, the way he’s rubbing his thumbs into Darren’s ass cheeks and starting to pull them apart. “And shut up about my resume.” 

Darren’s only just gathering the threads of a witty retort when Chris starts tonguing determinedly down his ass crack, and suddenly repartee seems _much_ less important. “Okay,” Darren mumbles into the pillow, rocking back against Chris’s face a little, and then he grunts “ _fuck_ ” when Chris’s mouth reaches its target. “Fuck, _yes_.”

He goes in enthusiastically at first, with the same steadfast energy he’d used in getting there. There’s Chris’s slick, open mouth and his firm, flat tongue and there’s suction, and yeah, Darren’s plenty hard again too, no problem, twitching against the pillow under his hips but trying not to buck down into it, not yet, because he sucks at holding out but this is one of those times when he really wants to. It helps that he already came once, and Chris helps too, whether he realizes it or not, by pulling back to circle Darren’s asshole lightly and flick against it using just the tip of his tongue. “Fucking tease,” Darren mumbles anyway. He rocks his pelvis back and forth a little bit, trying to get some relief, and partially dislodges Chris’s grip on his ass. 

Chris takes him firmly — a little roughly, actually — back in hand, shoving him down into the pillow and holding him open. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re really upset about it,” Chris says, not waiting for a response before he’s kissing wetly around Darren’s hole again, his tongue coming out to work against the loosening rim and then press into the middle. Then he does that thing where he kind of _rolls_ and _rubs_ and Darren groans and starts squirming shallowly into the pillow. Fuck resolve. 

He skates his legs out a little and shoves his ass back farther. “Do that again.”

“You’re so easy,” Chris mutters, and Darren doesn’t care because yeah, that move totally fucks him up. And Chris is doing it again, so that’s what’s really important.

“Damn right,” Darren says. Chris isn’t letting up, so it comes out kind of slurred and more like a moan than actual words, rendered even less intelligible because his mouth is coming open against Chris’s bamboo-covered pillow as his breathing speeds up and goes short and noisy.

It’s getting messy — Chris is probably _making_ it messier than it needs to be on purpose, because it’s no secret between them that they both like that — and Darren can feel spit dripping down towards his balls, can feel it slicking between Chris’s chin and the sides of his face and Darren’s own skin. Darren’s got a pretty decent rhythm going now, down into the pillow, back against the firm press of Chris’s tongue, and Chris goes with it for a little while, but then he follows one of Darren’s thrusts down hard with his hands, pinning him against the bed and open.

Darren makes a frustrated sound and tries to buck back up, but there’s nowhere to go. Chris pushes him down a tiny bit farther, and then one of his hands kneads and shifts in until the tip of his thumb is teasing the edge of Darren’s hole, circling it and massaging the wet rim, then sinking into the center, barely breaching him. “Fuck, Chris, yeah,” Darren moans, trying to move in a way that will urge it deeper. 

Chris just draws it back, letting it slide down through the saliva still coating Darren’s skin, down underneath his asshole, where he applies a little more pressure. “God, just do it already,” Darren grunts.

“You think I’m going to do something?” Chris asks innocently, rubbing his thumb down behind Darren’s balls.

“Well, I don’t want to sound — _uh_ — presumptuous, but I think this all started with a conversation about you... fucking my ass.”

“You think _that’s_ what I’m going to do?”

“ _Chris_ , come _on_.” 

He fully expects Chris to keep screwing with him for a while, but, surprisingly, he just says, “okay.” And then he leans back over.

It’s not gentle or nuanced; Chris just goes in hard, giving Darren one harsh, wet lick before he starts working his tongue inside, thrusting in and dragging out, going deeper by increments. Darren groans — heavily — and starts to move again, now that Chris has eased up on holding him down. It’s obvious that Chris is just ruthlessly trying to get him off now — tongue fucking him in earnest while continuing to press against his prostate from the outside — and who is Darren to fight that? Everything goes downhill really quickly, especially when Darren sneaks one hand between his body and the pillow, squeezing his cock for that _last little bit_ of stimulation that he needs, and then he’s coming, harsh and loud, and thank god it’s not Chris’s bamboo pillow under his hips, because it’s thoroughly defiled before Darren’s even done.

Chris lets go of him suddenly, and as Darren’s body slumps down, he hears Chris’s breathing go labored, punctuated by sharp _hah_ s, hears the slick sound of Chris’s hand pumping his own cock, steady and fast. “Yeah,” Darren mumbles, and he waits, until there’s come striping up his back and down over his hole. “Yeah, that’s right, Chris, _yeah_.” 

One hand thumps down onto the bed next to Darren’s side, but instead of collapsing on top of him, Chris heaves himself to the side and sprawls next to Darren on the bed. He lands right on top of the pillow whose virginity Darren had so callously taken. “Ugh,” he grumbles, pushing it off the side of the bed and giving Darren a _look_.

It doesn’t carry its usual heat, though, and Darren just laughs. “Don’t even start with me, Christopher. _You_ put it there. And you just jizzed all over my back.”

“Yeah, well, your back is going to be much easier to clean, so you still owe me a new pillow,” Chris mutters. He lets one hand flop onto Darren’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m awesome,” Darren says with a grin.

“’Kay. I’ll be right back.”

Darren lets his eyes drift shut as Chris slides off the mattress. He listens lazily to whatever Chris is doing — mouthwash, it sounds like, and the sink runs a few times — and then Chris pads back across the room, and a damp towel drops onto Darren’s back. Darren cracks an eye and wriggles around underneath it. “Little help?”

Chris stretches back out on the bed. “Seriously? And who’s been doing all the work here today?”

“Yeah, I heard all those times you complained about it,” Darren retorts, wiggling again and bumping his hip into Chris’s. When Chris just ignores him, he twists one arm behind himself to start wiping off. “So… that was kind of unexpected.”

“Well,” Chris says, fixing Darren with a stern look that’s at least partially put-on, “that’s what happens when you try and tell me what to do.”

Darren tosses the towel to the floor. “What, I get the rim job of my life? That’s not much of a threat, man.” He scoots across the bed, and Chris automatically rolls up onto his side, letting Darren snug in behind him. “You know what though? We should do that again.”

“Rimming? Obviously we’ll be doing that again.”

“No. I mean, fuck yeah, but no. The whole roleplay thing. It was pretty hot.”

“It was interesting,” Chris says noncommittally.

Darren isn’t fooled, though. “You liked it. You broke character so hard, and you didn’t hold out nearly as long as I thought you would before you jumped me.” He smushes his face into the back of Chris’s neck and makes himself comfortable there, leaning in to kiss a few lingering times, and he tastes drying sweat.

Chris lets out a little huff of breath and tilts his head farther into the pillow. “The scenario was pretty far-fetched.”

Darren shrugs his free shoulder. “Look at pornos. They all are. You come up with a better one next time.”

“I’m open to the possibility of a repeat,” Chris says, but then he pauses. “It was probably a bad idea to bring it to work, though. Lea was getting way too nosy about our sex life. She’s very imaginative.”

“Maybe she should come up with the next scenario, then.”

Chris answers that with a tired groan. “Don’t even joke about that. I shudder to think.”

“Well, Chord said, and I quote, _whatever the hell you two are doing, leave me out of it_.”

Chris snorts. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“You don’t think he’s cute?”

“I don’t think I want to have a threesome with him.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement. And Darren?”

“Yeah?” Darren presses himself closer against Chris’s back. 

“Next time, don’t purposefully fuck up your blocking to piss me off. That was really annoying.” Chris pauses. “And if anyone finds out you were doing it on purpose, we’re going to get so much shit and we’ll _never_ hear the end of it.”

“…yeah, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


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